


All So Sudden

by wordswehavesaid



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry needs help people, First Kiss, I can't stop, M/M, No Spoilers past 1x09 and 3x09, SO FLUFFY, it's awkward but then it's not, probably need help too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswehavesaid/pseuds/wordswehavesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it happens, it’s probably the least romantic thing he’s ever experienced in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All So Sudden

When it happens, it’s probably the least romantic thing he’s ever experienced in his life. At least until he thinks about it later.

But in the moment it is so very strange and absurd and jarring and _terrifying_ because one minute they’re grinning at each other across the warehouse they customarily use for their spars—both verbal and physical—and the next Oliver’s space is just absolutely full of a firm, lean body, hands flitting from his shoulders to his elbows and back, and feverish, trembling lips on his. His nose and teeth are throbbing like there’s been some kind of collision, but to his eyes and mind it’s like he’s never been hit.

It’s a miracle he doesn’t strangle the younger man all over again through pure reflex, senses and perception having been dealt such a shock. He does, however, hook one leg around his assailant’s ankle in a practiced move to cause him to lose balance, spins them around fast as he himself is able, and pushes him up against a metal support beam. It’s then at last that he breaks a kiss he wasn’t able to even register the beginning of.

Barry’s looking dazed, which Oliver doesn’t see how he has a right to be _at all_ seeing as how he’s started this, whatever it is. But there must be something in his slightly more aggressive stance than usual or his own probably wildly dumbfounded expression, because then the speed-enhanced vigilante gives a realized jolt and seems to recover his speech. Fast.

“Oh. That was—was that faster for you? I mean, like was it, you didn’t see me or- or—Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to- to uh, I wasn’t planning for it to be like that—not that I was planning _it_ at all, ah…”

As he listens to Barry’s rambling, watches a blush spread over his face red to rival that of his suit, Oliver’s brain plays catch up, filing away the sudden sensory overload that had dealt him such a shock into comprehensive parts. Parts that he finds he altogether doesn’t mind. The grip he has on Barry’s forearms slackens, though it’s more a step from bruising harshness to tightly encircling, and he doesn’t move an inch away.

“Barry,” he states aloud, stopping the flow of uncertain, mortified words. His voice is quiet, even as he continues, “It’s ok.”

“It just sort of happened,” the younger man murmurs. His whole body is still quivering with the restraint of constantly holding back such energy even after he’s allowed himself one blissful moment of release, with Oliver. Then another quick admission. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply letting his actions speak for themselves. He’s always found that to be easier since the island. It’s almost ridiculously easy to finally let go with one of his hands only to slide it around to the base of the other man’s neck, fingers entangling with the hair there, long enough to do so unlike his own.

And Oliver finds he’s unable to help himself either, so he finally replies, “I know,” and leans in. Closes his mouth over Barry’s waiting one, presses in warm and steady, teeth just catching the other’s lower lip and gently nibbling; holding him there with one hand cradling the back of his head and the other pushing him firmly against the beam, his feet planted on either side of the speedster’s. The moan that’s drawn forth and swallowed sounds achingly low, like Oliver’s been plundering the recesses of Barry’s mouth for an age. To the man for whom time itself slows down, it probably feels that way.

He pulls off just as slow as he moved in, with a final nip that leaves Barry’s lips plump and red and still parted, a rosy dusting to his cheeks, and wide eyes slightly glazed over yet dark. Oliver can feel, with the brush of a thumb, the pulse jumping rapidly in his neck and the way he’s almost straining to remain still. He wonders when that resolve might break.

Oliver can’t help tempting fate by ducking back in, this time to hover just over the other’s right ear. “And _that’s_ why—I call the shots.”

The answering whimper tells him he’s just found a torture far sweeter and exquisite than anything involving arrows.

And they’re going to love it.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I wanted to do something sort of closer to the start of their relationship? But I skipped all the angst. I don't seem to be in the mood for angst with these two right now. Working on an idea for a multi-chapter story, though, so that will probably change, because plot always brings angst. Anyway, thanks a ton for reading this and I'd love to know what people think!


End file.
